I have been home to see my family only once since quarantine began mid-march. I haven’t seen my friends since classes moved online and remote work became the new normal. I have quit going to a public gym and order groceries online. I wear a mask into the post office and bank (and did so even before local ordinances made it mandatory). On the off chance I leave my home, I change clothes, scrub my hands, and sanitize my phone and keys upon return. I have been very careful and very intentional about my choices. Now, I do not have the luxury of making a choice; the Missouri Board of Law Examiners has decided for me.

According to the MBLE, my health and safety, and that of hundreds of my peers, is less important than an examination purported to demonstrate minimum competency in the field of law. I am, for all intents and purposes, being forced to prioritize a test—one that, despite its questionable connection to legal practice, is the only way to become licensed in my chosen field—over my physical and mental well-being. Somehow, a pandemic does not warrant adaptations beyond a mask requirement and pre-entry temperature checks. The MBLE can attempt to disclaim liability by mandating we sign waivers and attestations, but should the exam proceed as scheduled, there will be blood on their hands. It is nothing short of reckless to require in-person testing at this time.

The bar is a career-defining, life-altering exam. Even under “normal” conditions, it induces stress beyond what we’ve all experienced throughout our three years of law school. The class of 2020, like the classes before us, is no stranger to self-doubt, apprehension, imposter syndrome, and the myriad of other [largely negative] emotions that accompany critical points in career development. We have, however, had to endure unprecedented levels of stress. As much as I try, as much time as I put in, I cannot get past the fear and the uncertainty. Will my job offer be rescinded? Will my reputation be tarnished, alongside so many others who would have certainly passed if this were a “normal” bar exam? Will I be able to support myself and my spouse? Will I catch COVID and infect my elderly parents or my immunocompromised siblings? Could I be the asymptomatic carrier that transmits the virus to a fellow student who had no choice but to put their life and health at risk to secure their professional and financial future? I know I am not alone in these fears.

The word “unprecedented” has been used with frequency to describe our situation, but somehow the MBLE and Supreme Court seem to misunderstand its significance. On July 9, 2020, in response to a letter collectively submitted by Missouri’s four law school deans, the Clerk of the Supreme Court of Missouri stated:

Even though the pandemic has created… unprecedented burdens on those taking the Bar Exam, the Court has determined [that temporarily modifying Rules 8 and 13] best balances th[e] long-term responsibility [to protect the public from those who have not demonstrated minimum competency to practice law] and these short‑term burdens.

This response suggests that when we say our circumstances are unprecedented, the Court and MBLE believe we are simply expressing our frustration over mere inconvenience. Quite the contrary, we are pleading with the Court to recognize the realities of the pandemic (realities that were clearly conveyed to the court through student letters and impact statements).

We fear for our careers:

• “If I do not take the exam, I risk jeopardizing my position or at the very least my start date, which has already been in flux due to the aforementioned economic downturn” (#3).
• “I must risk my health, the health of my family and coworkers, and my financial health if I do get sick, because I must start my job to survive. Therefore, I must take the bar in July because there is no other option” (#10).
• “If [I] contract COVID-19 and suffer any symptoms that indicate that I’m not combat ready, I would be disqualified from service and would lose my job. Therefore, a COVID-19 diagnoses could prevent me from joining the military” (#23).
• “So many of my classmates were unable to find jobs, they lost their offers, or their offers are hanging on by a thread. We are competing in a tough and uncertain job market. We’re scared for another hit to the economy if this virus gets worse” (#29).

We fear the implications of financial instability:

• “I am under greater financial stress due to my husband’s hours being reduced because of COVID and not being able to work while I study” (#10).
• “My single mother is a nurse. I have two little sisters, one of whom is still in grade school. Every day that COVID continues is a day I have to worry for my mother’s safety. She has a heart condition, and I fear for what COVID could do to her health. Quite frankly, if my mother dies from this virus, then my sisters are my responsibility” (#16).
• “After years with various symptoms and months of decline in my health, I found out I have a chronic autoimmune disease… My health insurance ends this fall. I need to have a job and access to healthcare; I am dependent on life-saving medications, and I do not have the option to wait. I have medications and other medical bills to pay, I have large student loans, and there are many consequential costs to being sick” (#26).
• “I will then be forced to manage a way to quarantine for the following two weeks since I can neither return home to my immunocompromised girlfriend, nor go live with and risk the lives of elderly family. Considering my financial situation, this means that I will have to endure what an optimist would refer to as extended camping and a realist acknowledges as temporary homelessness” (#24).

We fear for our peers and loved ones:

• “My mother contracted COVID-19 in New York City (she recovered thankfully, but is still unwell, two months later), and my cousin lost her grandfather last week” (#5).
• “After all of the sensible social distancing for which we as a society have sacrificed, this action is reckless… We will all be placed at risk of contracting this disease and spreading it to our families” (#3).
• “We simply do not understand this novel coronavirus. While masks and social distancing may reduce the risk, no amount of planning makes an in-person exam safe… [I]f a single one of my [peers] dies because of a 200-multiple-choice, eight-essay test, I will never forgive myself” (#6).
• “I have immunocompromised and elderly people that I care about and come into regular contact with, and I should not have to choose between my career and potentially killing someone close to me” (#11).
• “The exam will inevitably be ground zero for an indeterminate number “super-spreaders”: people who have the virus and spread it to a large number of other people. If the bar exam moves forward during the pandemic it is extremely likely it will be responsible for an unknowable number of people’s illnesses – and possibly deaths” (#21).

We fear for our health, our safety, and our lives:

• “My anxiety as grown more and more as the time nears to take the bar, and I am afraid that once I sit down to take the test, I will not be focusing on whether I am getting the questions right or wrong, but instead, will be worrying about who in this room has COVID that is going to give it to me” (#9).
• “I’m sure there will be students who may suppress the fact that they are experiencing symptoms in order to sit for the bar exam putting my life and others’ in danger. Also, there are students who will be asymptomatic and still pass the virus to others” (#15).
• “If I die, I die. And I do not say it in a joking manner, as if I am suicidal and okay with death. I do not want to die. I say that because I do not have a choice; you have not left me a choice” (#26).
• “Being asked to sit in a room for hours on end with hundreds of other people from around the state is dangerous. While masks and social distancing are a good first step, there is no way to guarantee perfect compliance with these measures. Furthermore, the measures themselves, even when perfectly adhered to, do not guarantee a safe environment – masks are only so effective, and there is mounting evidence that the virus can live in the air for extended periods of time” (#31).

A mere nine days out from the exam Missouri set another record for daily increases in new coronavirus cases on July 18. Students will get sick and/or transmit the virus to family members and roommates, and some will die. These consequences are, by no means, “short term,” and the risk is beyond mitigation.

It may, at first glance, seem that we are asking for “special treatment” (how typical of millennials, right?). A deeper look, however, at the class of 2020 will reveal that we exemplify everything that good lawyers should be: fierce advocates who stand up for what is right in the face of adversity; compassionate humans who truly empathize with and want the best for their peers, families, and future clients; science- and research-driven decision-makers (who trust the medical experts warning us daily not to be cavalier about COVID); analytical minds that can recognize when the costs and risks outweigh the benefits; and more.

“Should I attend an in-person exam so that I can keep my job, become a lawyer and live as I have planned for 3 years? Or should I stay home and reduce the risk that I could transmit the disease on the day of the exam or any day thereafter?” (#19). This is the question we are forced to answer. “Is this really a profession that cares more about upholding the status quo than it cares about protecting future attorneys and their families — people who live in the same community as you do?” (#30). This is the question you must answer.

As the old adage goes, “desperate times call for desperate measures.” These times are, very clearly, nothing short of desperate. We simply request a one-time bar adaptation that does not require us to choose between life and licensure. Reasonable minds may differ on the efficacy of the bar exam in gauging attorney competence or “protect[ing] the integrity of the profession,” but there is little room to dispute the dangers of 12+ hours of indoor testing in numbers that far exceed local (and federal) recommendations amidst a devastating pandemic.

For more information on this topic, please see the recording of the webinar hosted by JURIST and United for Diploma Privilege on July 9th entitled: “Diploma Privilege and the Future of the Bar Exam.”

This essay was written by a recent graduate and applicant for the Missouri Bar who is currently preparing to take the in-person July 2020 Missouri Bar Exam.

Suggested citation: 2020 Missouri Bar Applicant, Life v. Licensure: An Unprecedented Choice for Missouri Bar Exam Registrants, JURIST – Student Commentary, July 19, 2020, https://www.jurist.org/commentary/2020/07/2020-mo-bar-applicant-inperson-bar-exam/.

This article was prepared for publication by Tim Zubizarreta, JURIST’s Managing Editor. Please direct any questions or comments to him at commentary@jurist.org